Feralesque and all ofit's
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Please do not steal or use
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“There’s got to be a FFI law against this,” Valerie Ruse said. Her nose wrinkled at the overkill of onion and ketchup slathered atop a single slab of wheat—pickles and burger not included. Since her return home, questionable items had become a frequent fixing at meals. For once, Valerie thanked God for Alice Academy and its adherence to Feral Food Investigation laws.
Valerie glanced at her sister humming away at the sink. Rose never minded what others thought of her. As much was clear when her supposedly delicate older sister turned up on their parent’s doorstep—barefoot with a bun in the oven and the town wolf in tow. Valerie imagined their father—family pistol in one hand, his revolver in the other—playing “tag” down Neoma’s streets.
Jesse’s barked words brought her crashing back to the dilemma.
“Then don’t eat the damned sandwich.”
Lowering her lashes, Valerie settled against her hand and kicked up a brow at her brother-to-be. “And you were?” she purred, pointing to his own plate full.
Jesse went stone stiff as her sister chiseled him with an over-the-shoulder look. “Damn straight!” he said.
Valerie gnawed the innards of her cheek as Jesse crammed one sandwich after another down the hatch.
“Tastes great, babe,” he spoke between bites.
Shame her sister Rose didn’t own a camera.
“Valerie,” Rose said, switching gears. “Eat already. Madam will be by early this afternoon to escort you to the academy.”
“Miss two classes and suddenly you need a leash,” grumbled Valerie. Downing her sister’s concoction, she tossed back the glass of water and raised a hand goodbye.
Jessie whined. “Why does she get water?”
“Did you say something, dear?” said Rose.
“Not a word, babe.”
Heaven help Jesse should her sister ever obtain a leash.
Valerie looked up at the leaves fluttering through the lattice of branches overhead. Faintly she heard the others. A male’s coarse grunts as he pummeled out another’s brains. A female’s quiet tittering as the male received a left hook to the kisser. The word barbaric twinned around her tongue, but reckoned she’d better keep it to herself. Tempers tended to run hot during the last mating of the season.
Valerie dropped her gaze to the Math book in her lap. Once per season Alice Academy allowed a break, during which the strongest ferals chose mates in hopes of siring the next alpha. Or as her mother so aptly called it, “bastard season”. Her father swayed to a similar tune when it came to his girls. Valerie recalled the ditch in the front yard accompanied by a boulder with “He was her first” scrawled into the rock. Valerie chewed her lip at the thought.
“Welcome back, halfling.”
“Hell to you too,” said Valerie. Lapping at her index, she thumbed to the next page. “Don’t you have yarn ball to chase, Simmy?”
“It’s Si-mon-e,” Simone snorted. “Lady Simone. It stands your kind would never know how to address nobility.”
“Don’t know, don’t care…” Valerie shrugged.
Much as it pained Valerie to say, Simone wasn’t entirely misguided. Neoma ferals and humans remained under the law of “nobility”, a pedigree that ranked both by lineage as well as wits and strength. Neoman’s considered humans the lowest of order, and only mated with humans under certain circumstances. Such children were gifted with a special name – one Valerie hated with every cell in her body.
A husky voice interrupted from behind. “Valerie.”
Pulled flush against a very lean, very muscular chest, a familiar spice of Creed and warm vanilla teased her senses. “Kenneth!” Valerie breathed. “What are yo—”
“Shhhh…” he said, his breath warm against her left ear. “Allow me to handle this.”
“Really, Kenny?” sneered Simone. “Surely you have better tastes than this.”
“I must agree,” said Kenneth. Simone batted her lashes and gave a shy gap-toothed grin. “My tastes, however, find your craven attempt at browbeating shameless. I suggest, Simone, you find a different target for your time of the month.”
Simone tightened her lips.
Valerie sensed she was the idiot holding a rod amidst lightning as they glared each other down.
Finally, hefting her freckle peppered nose skyward, Simone turned and walked past them.
Kenneth chuckled against her neck. A rich sound that sent chills through her toes and back. “Catch you later, hellcat.”
Valerie gazed after Kenneth as he ran to a group of guys, slapping palms with them. She shook her head. If she ever came to fathom this male’s behavior, it’d be too soon.
“Kenneth Parker thinks he’s all that and a big bag of cat nip just ‘cause his father was Neoma’s last alpha,” said Simone. Valerie bit back a scream as Simone materialized behind her.
Valerie gripped her book tight, hard pressed to ignore the musings of the scorned molly.
“But he’s a flirt,” Simone continued. “An incorrigible tom who’d sooner serve a skirt than his country.”
Thwack! Valerie watched the blood drip from Simone’s cheek, the beat of her pulse increasing as the smell of urine became strong. “Shut it,” said Valerie. Drawing back bloodied knuckles, she opened and closed it a few times before dropping it to her side. “Talking as if you know everyone from the core. Tch! That’s all you full-blood brats know. Throw shade and talk shit.”
“Y-you can’t talk to me like that!” squeaked Simone. “Who do you think you are?”
Valerie tilted her head, a smile tilting her lips.
Simone shivered. “Madam Rezina!” she cried.
Valerie shrugged. Turned heel and walked back toward the fence. She could still feel Simone’s gaze burning holes into her back as she vaulted over and back into the trees behind the school.
Find Feralesque in Romance on sakuratales.com.